<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Leader Like Me by kiwiqueen</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075226">A Leader Like Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiqueen/pseuds/kiwiqueen'>kiwiqueen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Insecurity, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together, Weight Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:33:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,947</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiqueen/pseuds/kiwiqueen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“This,” he paused.  Claude was always deliberate with his words, but now more than usual he seemed determined to choose precisely the right ones, or maybe afraid to choose wrong.  “This isn’t what a leader like me is supposed to look like.”</p><p>Claude's façade begins to break down, and what Byleth finds behind it is not what she expected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Leader Like Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day Byleth had woken up was one day before the anniversary of Jeralt’s death.  That had been the day that she learned that some things were the work of fate, whether she liked it or not.  Oftentimes fate was cruel, like it had been in her countless attempts to save her father’s life.  But perhaps this, too, was fate, her awakening on the day she had promised to reunite with the Golden Deer, the day of the Millennium Festival, five years after her first meeting with Claude at the Goddess Tower.</p><p>Now here they were, in his old bedroom, carefully examining a map showing the path from Derdriu to Enbarr, crossing over the Great Bridge and through Gronder Field, and she was rapidly losing the will to stay awake.  Her eyes drooped shut despite her position standing over the map on Claude’s desk.  She nearly collapsed onto it, but Claude caught her.</p><p>“You okay there, Teach?”  He smiled at her, not one of his typical, mischievous smiles, but one laced with something caring.</p><p>“Yeah,” she nodded, “I’m just getting a little tired.”</p><p>“Why don’t you sit down then?”  He swept her off her feet, carrying her bridal style in his strong arms and setting her down on a chair near his bed.  She tried to push aside the thought of brides and weddings.  “I’ll put on some tea to help us stay awake.”</p><p>He left the room.  Byleth felt the heat lingering in her face even when he returned several minutes later with a pot of tea and two cups: a simple, porcelain set, leafy green in color, with an uncomplicated design sculpted into its surface.  He settled onto the head of his bed and poured a cup of tea for each of them.  From the cup wafted the smoky smell of the Almyran pine tea that he enjoyed so much, and she savored her first sip of it.</p><p>It was unsweetened, and with its strong flavor, she felt vitality blooming within her once again.</p><p>Claude made easy small talk as they sat and drank their tea.  While she wasn’t much for conversation, Claude never seemed to run out of things to say, and she felt as though she could listen to the euphonious sound of his voice forever.  She felt as though this was where she belonged.  More than listening to his words, she reveled in the warmth of his presence and their tea as they seeped life back into her.  She snapped to attention, though, when he reached up to his left shoulder to remove his cape and gloves.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>He didn’t berate her for not listening to him.  “I said it’s hot in here,” he answered with an amused look, “and I think I’m allowed to get comfortable in my own room.”</p><p>“Right, sorry.  I’m having trouble focusing right now, and I don’t really know what we’re talking about.”</p><p>He cocked his head to the side.  “Why don’t you sit on the bed, then?  Maybe it’ll help you concentrate if you get comfortable, too.”</p><p>Byleth hesitated, but it wasn’t an offer she could easily refuse.  She stood from her chair and took a seat instead at the foot of the bed.  Even in the absence of his cape, Claude’s body was still fully covered.  She felt foolish for becoming so flustered over its removal, like a wide-eyed schoolgirl just brushing hands with her sweetheart for the first time.  She recomposed herself into her comfortable neutrality.</p><p>“Anyway,” he continued, “I saw Lysithea and Cyril having tea and reading a book.  They seemed really happy together.  I’m glad for those two kids.”</p><p>She finished the last of her tea and set the cup down onto the floor.  “They are adults now, you know.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he conceded, “I just like to tease them.  Though I mean it when I say that they’re lucky to have each other.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a moment, already close enough to feel one another’s body heat.  Claude turned his head to look at her.  She met his gaze, not with a challenge, hardly with any intention at all, simply content to look into his eyes.  Here they spent another silent moment.</p><p>“What?” she asked.</p><p>“Nothing,” he moved closer still.  She was intoxicated by the smell of him; she couldn’t describe exactly what he smelled of except that it was vaguely floral and distinctly Claude.</p><p>Time seemed to stop.  Byleth couldn’t say how long they sat there like that, their lips almost touching and their eyes half-closed.  The static electricity between them, around them, coursing in her blood, paralyzed her in that moment for a small eternity.  Perhaps it was hours before their lips finally met, but likely it was only a fraction of a second.</p><p>No, not hours, it had been years.  Byleth knew this.  During her five-year slumber, the thought of Claude had kept her anchored to this world, and when she had regained her consciousness she had thought of him before anyone else.</p><p>Their first kiss was so light, barely a brush of the lips, that she almost doubted whether it had been real.  But the look of trepidation and something else, something tender, in his intensely green eyes told her it was true.</p><p>They came together again in an achingly sweet kiss, pervaded by the earthy flavor of their tea.  As his arms wrapped around her waist, she let her hands tangle into his hair.  She could, again, not say how long they stayed in that embrace, locked in a passionate, yet chaste, kiss, but they were forced apart for air too soon, their breath as necessary as the other’s touch.  She rested her forehead against his, their breathing heavy; they both had been starved for the other’s affection for too long.</p><p>Every moment she spent separated from him was agony.  She kissed him again, parting his lips with her tongue to taste his sweet astringency.  Claude made a sound deep in the back of his throat, his hands running over the contours of her body like he was trying to commit it to memory.</p><p>She reached for the belt at his waist, but he caught her by the wrist.</p><p>“Ah,” she retracted her hand, “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”</p><p>He let go of her wrist.  “No, it’s not that.  I want you to.  I just. . . wasn’t prepared, I guess.”  He placed his hands over hers, more gently this time, and guided them back to his waist.  She untied his belt and fumbled with the clasps of his jacket.  When she failed to undo them, he chuckled and opened them himself.  As he did so, she noticed, he contorted his body as though trying to hide from her.  Jacket shed, he was left in a sleeveless goldenrod undershirt, the same color as his already-discarded cape.</p><p>She caressed his powerful arms carefully, like she was handling something much more fragile than him.  They were covered in the scars brought on by years of war.  Her fingertips traced one scar extending midway up his bicep from the crook of his elbow.  She wondered how long ago it had marred his bronze skin, if she could have prevented it by coming back sooner.  She felt his lips press lightly against her temple, one of his hands running through her hair.</p><p>Her hands dragged from his shoulders down to the hem of his undershirt.  He grew tense as they did so, and she looked up at him for permission before sliding her hands beneath the garment to remove it.</p><p>The scarring continued onto Claude’s chest and stomach.  One thumb grazed the area surrounding his navel, and he shivered.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” she met his vivid gaze again.</p><p>He averted his eyes.  He leaned in close, pulled off her cloak in one smooth motion, and buried his face in her neck.</p><p>“Byleth,” he murmured.  He so rarely called her by first name.  She shuddered at the sensation of his lips on her neck.  If she hadn’t noticed his neglect to answer her, she would have melted into him.</p><p>“Claude,” she cupped his chin in her hand and tilted his head up to look at her.  “What’s wrong?”</p><p>His right hand clenched and unclenched.  The left one withdrew from her body and moved to the spot near his waist that her thumb had been tracing moments before.  It pressed against the malleable flesh there.</p><p>“This,” he paused.  Claude was always deliberate with his words, but now more than usual he seemed determined to choose precisely the right ones, or maybe afraid to choose wrong.  “This isn’t what a leader like me is supposed to look like.”</p><p>She pulled back.  Perhaps the softness of his bared abdomen did not match the perfect musculature of his arms, which he displayed often when shooting his bow on the field of battle.  Perhaps the truth of him was not like the façade which he projected on the outside.  Perhaps Claude didn’t fit the image of a leader that the people of Fódlan dreamed up for themselves.  Still, Byleth couldn’t conceive of seeing him as any less than flawless.</p><p>She placed her hands over his and looked deep into his eyes, noticing the gold stippling his irises.  “You say that as though there’s anyone out there like you.”</p><p>He shook his head.  “Don’t resort to clichés with me.”</p><p>“I’m serious.”</p><p>“Byleth–” his voice caught in his throat.  If her heart could have ached, it certainly would have been doing so now.</p><p>Her hands tightened around his.  “Do you remember the Battle of the Eagle and Lion?”  He didn’t say anything, but the slight draw of his eyebrows was the only affirmation she needed.  “You came to me, out in the open, talking a little bit too loudly about stomach poisons, and Edelgard and Dimitri heard you.”</p><p>He shook his head again.  “So I got caught in a scheme.  So what?”</p><p>“So,” she continued, “they were both so busy keeping their eyes on you that the others had a direct line to them.  The other houses fell apart without their leaders there to give orders.”</p><p>He was silent for a moment.  “You really don’t miss a beat, huh, Teach?”</p><p>“Neither of them could have thought up a tactic like that.  I don’t care what you look like.  You have a beautiful mind, and that’s what makes you a great leader.”</p><p>His gaze wavered.  He fell into Byleth’s arms and held her tight against his chest.  She could feel him trembling slightly, and she wondered who had last given him such affirmation.</p><p>She closed her eyes.  The room was quiet but for the sound of their breathing, falling into synchronicity as they held each other close.  It was full of the smoky scents of the tea and the candles that illuminated the now-forgotten map to the Imperial capital.  His hair felt soft between her fingers.  In that moment, they could reach out into oblivion, far past Leicester and Adrestia, far past Fódlan and Almyra, and simply be.</p><p>“It’s getting late,” his voice broke the sweet silence that had settled over his bedroom.  It reverberated deep in her chest.  “We should both get some sleep.”</p><p>Byleth agreed and removed herself from Claude, moving to reclaim her cloak from the floor.</p><p>“Wait,” he reached for her hand.  “Stay.”</p><p>She relaxed back into the cradle of his arms.  He pulled them both down into a position reclining in his bed.  Byleth wrapped her arms around the slight convex curve of his middle.</p><p>“Is this okay?” she murmured into the nape of Claude’s neck.</p><p>“Yeah,” he gave a slight nod, “everything is going to be okay.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>